Sherlock: Mini Stories
by Kat1967
Summary: These are a collection of mini stories surrounding the Sherlock characters from the hit BBC show.
1. Chapter 1

It had been a long day. It seemed as if one thing after another just kept happening. For example, that morning when he had picked up his delicious, steaming cup of coffee, Donovan and Anderson appeared seemingly out of nowhere, thus startling him and causing the coffee to spill all over his clean white shirt. It had been a disaster and all Donovan and Anderson had wanted was to complain about the incompetency of the new intern, an individual Lestrade actually quite liked. After that his computer started acting up and wouldn't connect to the internet for some reason. When Lestrade called the guys in charge of this, he was put on hold several time before being transferred to a bored sounding individual who said that someone would be there to check it out soon. Apparently though, that person's idea of soon and Lestrade's were very different. After what seemed like two hours, no had still shown up. Lestrade had given up hope. Fast forward the day's events a bit, to around midafternoon. Lestrade got a call from a woman that lived in a flat near his complaining about all the noise that was emanating from his flat. This was a problem for Lestrade because his wife was not at home, she had moved out for the time being, and he was very obviously at work. This could only mean one thing-his flat had been broken into.

Another wonderful thing to top off his so far wonderful day. Lestrade yelled at Anderson and Donovan to get to the squad car. He contemplated telling them it was an emergency that had to do with Sherlock as to motivate them to move faster, but decided against it in the end. When they arrived at Lestrade's flat, one light could be seen on inside and there was a tremendous ruckus. It sounded like an elephant had decided to take a "walk" inside a china shop. It was very worrisome to Lestrade. He moved slowly up to his front door with gun out in front of him, ready to shoot if someone decided to come out. Lestrade motioned for Donovan and Anderson to stay by the car, for now; he was going to go in. With that, Lestrade turned the door knob and walked inside. Papers littered the floor. Every once and a while there was a lamp or random piece of furniture turned over. At first Lestrade saw no one until he made his way into his own sitting room. What he found will stay with him for the rest of his life. There behind his desk was Sherlock rifiling through some confidential police records. Sherlock was the cause of all this mess. "What are you doing here!?" demanded Lestrade. Without even looking up from the folder, Sherlock calmly replied, "Drugs bust." Lestrade simply sighed, put his gun back in its holster, went outside and called off Anderson and Donovan. He then turned away from his two annoying officers and screamed as loud as possible. After composing himself and ignoring the weird looking from the two terrified officers, Lestrade went back inside. "Sherlock, clean this up when you're done. I don't even want to know why you're here. If I come back and its not clean, though, I'll arrest you." With that, Lestrade went outside, got in the police car, and went back to his office.


	2. Chapter 2

Darkness and then light. Darkness and then light. This pattern kept repeating on and on. It wouldn't stop. The light was so bright and the dark felt like a void. What was going on? It had to be a dream but it seemed too real. Was that a shadow in the light? Oh, God. It was. What is it? I stare harder at it each time I go through the light. I am running a breathtaking pace, though. Should I slow down? NO! The word echoes throughout my cranium. One thing is for certain: slowing down meant death. I could not die. At least, not yet.

There it is again. That shadow. I force my eyes to focus on it as best as I can. It's John! He's crouched over. Is he hurt? He seems as if he is in pain. I slow down. I walk closer to him. He is clutching his stomach. Once I reach him, I put my hand on his shoulder. John leaps up and grabs my shoulders in a vise like grip. He is suddenly taller than me and he is very angry. There is a gaping bullet wound in the middle of his stomach.

"You did this to me. This is because of you, Sherlock!"

He yells this at me with so much fury. I start trembling. When did this happen? I know this is a dream. It has to be. John would never yell at me like this. You idiot! John isn't taller than you! That should be your cue this is a dream not his emotional state. I shake my head to remove this voice. This part of me that is rational will not help. Not now. Everything is different. John starts to loosen his grip and lets go of me. Then he starts laughing manically. He won't stop. It's hurting my head. John's eyes widen and he starts transforming.

The angry, but familiar John is now James Moriarty. He is now staring at me. "Oh, Shirley. If only, you would have gotten here sooner. Then little Johnny boy wouldn't be dead." Trembling, I look down at my feet and John is lying there with a glassy look to his eyes and that confounded bullet hole still dripping a scarlet liquid. I nearly vomit. "Tsk. Tsk. If only you had gotten here a minute earlier. You know, you should really listen to John better. This is all your fault, Sherlock." I want to punch that smug look off his face, but I can't even raise my arm. I am frozen.

"I guess you have nothing to say for yourself. It's such a pity that a genius like you can't take such pressure."

Moriarty goes to touch John. I don't know what he's going to do, but I know that I don't want him touching my best friend. My hands fly out towards Moriarty and close around his neck. "Don't you dare touch him!" I yell this over and over again as I lift Moriarty higher into the air. The petty villain's face goes white. His eye's gloss over. Then I am being shaken. My body feels as if it might explode and then light.

Oh, the light is so brilliant. I feel as if I may never be able to see again. My eyes finally adjust and I see John looming over me with a worried expression. "Are you okay, Sherlock? Speak to me!" I ignore him and look around. I am in my bed in my bedroom. Of course. I had fallen asleep here due to John's insistence last night when we had come home late from a pretty gruesome and tiring case. I look at John. "It's alright, my friend. I just had a bad dream. People get them from time to time. Go back to sleep and stay out of my room." With that I roll over on my side so John can not see me. He can never know what I had dreamt. It would ruin him.

I hear him huff and walk out of the room and slamming the door. I then feel a tear roll down my cheek and close my eyes. My worst nightmare had just defeated me. I would never let John die. Not even in my dreams. Next time I would be ready. John would not die then.


End file.
